The Family Stone: Swanfire AU
by eleven19
Summary: I've taken some liberties with the plot: forget the siblings switching love interests and the Mom-has-cancer-thing. Just Neal being introduced to Emma's crazy family over the holidays, and all the shenanigans and cuteness that ensues. Humor, Christmas cheer, psycho family...fun times :D
1. Chapter 1

**I'm writing this for one of my Tumblr friends, and just generally anyone who loves family fluff, Swanfire fluff, Christmas fluff...Enjoy, darlings! :DDD I'm still writing the other Christmas ones, don't worry.**

"Okay, whoever turned off my Michael Bublè Christmas Medley, stop doing that! Ruby, honey, get off the counter, I'm cooking—JEFFERSON, WHY IS YOUR COAT STILL ON THE FLOOR? Where's Robin? I just saw Roland run past me with sticky fingers, and—Ruby, _off_ the counter! Honestly, you guys, it's like you're teenagers all over again!"

Ruby rolled her eyes, watching her mother bustle around the kitchen in her ridiculously festive Christmas sweater. "All this fuss, just because _Emma's_ bringing home a new boyfriend."

"Well, maybe if you brought someone home, we could have all the fuss for _you,_ " Mary Margaret returned sweetly.

" _Mom…"_

"Well, I'm just saying—"

"Okay, _stop_ saying." Ruby hopped off the counter and started listlessly circling the kitchen, peering into the several pots and casserole dishes scattered around the counter, every so sniffing suspiciously. "This is a lot of food, Mom."

"It's a special occasion, I think she's really serious about this guy," Mary Margaret said, stirring something on the stove. "I want him to feel like he's part of the family."

"Who in their right mind would want to be part of this family?" Ruby asked the ceiling.

The Nolans were what you'd call "closely knit", which was a very nice way of saying "suffocating". Mary Margaret seemed paranoid that because her four children were now grown and getting on with their own lives, they would lose all memory of her and David: it was necessary precaution to involve herself in every aspect of their lives. Most of the year, they all enjoyed at least a few hours' distance between them: Ruby was living in Boston, Robin and his family in the suburbs, Jefferson just outside the city, and Emma had ventured further than all of them and landed in New York. But at Christmas, everyone was guilted into returning to their childhood home and putting up with their mother's holiday fever. David took the more cynical approach to the holiday, but everyone knew that if Mary Margaret complained in front of him, they would be forced to wear every reindeer nose and elf hat he could dig out of the attic.

"Hey, Mom—" Jefferson poked his head into the kitchen. "Did you call me?"

"Yeah, get your coat off the floor, I'm tired of tripping over it."

Jefferson exchanged a look with Ruby and obediently snatched up his coat, throwing it over his shoulder. "Anything else?"

"Are you the one who keeps turning off Michael Bublè?" Mary Margaret demanded, putting a hand on her hip.

"Who, me?"

"Yes, you."

" _What?_ No…"

Mary Margaret sternly pointed the spoon at him. "Unless you want to serenade us yourself, you go turn it back on right now."

Jefferson rolled his eyes with his whole head. _"Fine…_ " He slouched off to the family room and a minute later: "… _I've been an awful good guy, Santa buddy…_ "

Another minute later, they heard the front door swing open; David's boots kicked off snow, then squeaked into the kitchen.

"All right," he said, shrugging his coat off. "Driveway's clear, Emma should be able to pull in just fine."

"Thank you," Mary Margaret smiled, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. She slapped his hand away. as he reached for the spoon in the pot she'd been stirring. "Don't go eating all the food before they get here."

"Oh, come on, it's _one_ bite—"

"Which turns into two bites, and then three bites, and then the whole pot is gone." Mary Margaret shooed him away. "Out of my kitchen, come on."

"All right, all right. Hey, Ruby—" he drummed his hands on her shoulders—"stop looking so cheerful."

Ruby opened her mouth in sarcastic laughter. " _Ha."_

"Come on, kiddo, lighten up. It's Christmas."

"Really?" Ruby looked around at the wreaths and holly garlands draped around the room; the Christmas calendar hanging on the wall; the snowman-themed napkins; the Santa and Mrs. Clause salt and pepper shakers. "I had no idea."

"Well, at least lighten up before Emma and this Neal guy get here," David said, giving Mary Margaret a wry look. " _Apparently,_ we don't want to scare him off."

* * *

"Get me Frankie on the phone…Gone, already? All right, fine—is Justin there?… _No?_ Are you—?" Neal pulled the phone away, shutting his eyes and muttering frustratedly, before putting it back to his ear. "No, I don't want to talk to his _sister,_ why the hell would I want to talk to his sister? You know what? Just do me a favor—tell him I called, and to call me back as soon as he gets to the hotel. Yeah. Okay, thanks. Yeah, merry Christmas, whatever—just tell him I called, okay? Thank you."

He hung up the phone with a sigh, stowing it away in his jacket pocket. Emma glanced over, turning the steering wheel one-handed.

"Hope you're not going to be doing that at dinner," she remarked. "My mom's big on family conversation."

"People actually do that?"

"Not people. My mom." Emma smiled at the the apprehensive look on his face. "Don't worry, she's going to love you either way. My dad's the one you have to worry about."

Neal closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the seat. "God help me, I've landed myself a daddy's girl."

"And don't be surprised if my sister gives you a hard time." Emma squinted to read the street sign through the falling snow. "She's a little ball of sunshine."

"Yay…"

The yellow bug scraped down the road, spinning out cascades of snow on either side. Neal looked out the window at the blur of houses, grimacing at the twinkling multi-colored Christmas lights. The entire building was still calling him "Scrooge" because last year, he'd complained that his neighbor across the street had lights that shone directly into his bedroom window, despite the heavy curtains. Needless to say, he'd sustained quite a resentment for obnoxious Christmas decorations, even more than they already deserved.

His heart sank as Emma slowed the car in front of the house with the brightest, most elaborately decorated house on the block. "This is your parents' house?"

"Yeah, my mom really goes all out." Emma parked the car in the driveway and shut off the engine; she twisted in her seat, turning to him with a big smile. "Ready for this?"

Neal slowly slid his eyes to the side, looking at the Santa sleigh and the tinkering Christmas elves; the red-and-green-lighted bushes; the enormous holly-berried wreath on the door. "Sure," he said with a weak smile. "I'm sure it'll be fine."


	2. Chapter 2

Emma hammered her gloved fist on the door, ringing the door bell for good measure. She could hear someone squeal (probably her mother), and several pairs of footsteps scamper to the door. Neal looked alarmed as someone (Robin, she thought) shouted, "Don't step on Roland!"

"My nephew," Emma explained, smiling at him.

"Oh."

The door swung open, and Emma was immediately swept into a tight hug. "Oh, my God, Emma, honey, I'm so glad to see you!" her mother squealed in her ear, squeezing Emma around the middle hard enough to misalign her ribs.

"Thanks, Mom," she choked. She looked over Mary Margaret's shoulder at David, who was beaming at her. "Hi, Dad."

"Emma." David held out his arms as she pulled away from Mary Margaret. "How are you, kiddo? Doing good?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's great," she smiled, going over to hug Jefferson and Robin. "Hey, guys—hi, Roland!" She scooped up the little boy, laughing as his soft little baby hands tickled her face. "Hi, buddy, how you doing?" she crooned, bouncing him up and down. "Oh, my God, Robin, he's so big now."

"Yep," Robin grinned, taking him as Roland held out his arms. "And getting really good at pickpocketing, so don't leave anything lying around."

"Noted," Emma nodded, and looked around. "Where's Ruby?"

"Here." Ruby poked her head between Robin and Jefferson, and pushed through to give Emma half a hug. "Hey."

"Hey," she smiled. She turned around and flopped her hand toward Neal, who was still awkwardly standing in the doorway. "Everybody, this is Neal."

Neal lifted his hand, flicking it in a tight little wave. "Hey."

"Neal." Mary Margaret beamed at him, and pulled him into a hug. Neal looked surprised, letting out a little laugh.

"Oh, are we hugging? Hey…how about that." He patted her back awkwardly a few times, smiling down as she pulled away. "Okay, that was…very friendly of you, thank you."

"It's nice to meet you, Neal," Mary Margaret said warmly. "This is my husband, David—"

David stepped forward, clapping Neal's hand in a shake. "Neal," he nodded.

"David, nice to meet you."

"And—" Emma stretched forward and pulled him further into the house. "Theses are my brothers, Robin and Jefferson. My nephew, Roland—isn't he cute?"

"Yeah, he's—he's a cutie." Neal scratched the side of his face, subtly shifting away from Roland. Kids, Emma knew, were not Neal's area of expertise.

"And my sister, Ruby."

Ruby jutted her chin at him; Neal nodded back. Fast friends? Maybe? Who could tell? Mary Margaret clapped her hands together.

"David, why don't you and Jefferson go get the luggage? No, no, no," she said over Neal and Emma's instant protests. "You've been driving for hours, you just sit down and relax, okay? Ruby, take their coats."

"Leave it," Emma muttered to Neal as he started rummaging in one of the pockets to pull out his cell phone. "No phone calls during dinner, remember?"

Neal hesitated for a minute. "No phone calls," he agreed, sighing.

"Dinner's nearly ready," Mary Margaret said, shifting as David and Jefferson shuffled past her, carrying bags down the hall. "Oh, I hope it's okay that we've put you two in the basement."

"It's fine, Mom," Emma shrugged. "So long as Dad cleared all that stuff out of the way."

Mary Margaret smiled, not answering her. "We squeezed the sofa bed in there, so…you two should be—ahem—cuddly."

"Which means, 'cramped'," Emma muttered to Neal.

"Try not to snore too much."

Emma opened her mouth in surprise, hitting him with the back of her hand. "I don't _snore._ "

Neal raised his eyebrows. "Oh, okay. You don't snore." He smiled patronizingly. "You're a delicate flower."

"What are you two whispering about?" Mary Margaret asked with a smile.

"Just…" Emma glanced sideways at Neal. "How excited we are to be spending Christmas with you guys."

"So excited," Neal added helpfully. "I'm, like, freaking out right now."

Mary Margaret smiled uncertainly. "You hide it well."

"…Thanks."

They stood there in awkward silence, everyone looking for something to say— _anything_ to say. Ruby walked in, raising an eyebrow as she looked around the room.

"Wow, guys, let me get a word in edgewise," she said. "Jesus."

Emma shifted between her feet, desperately trying to think of something to say, but it was like she'd lost the ability to speak. Beside her, Neal was anxiously tapping his fingers against his leg, probably itching to get his phone and check how many missed calls he had. Mary Margaret stared at her watch, apparently counting the seconds until she could take the roast out. The silence extended past the point of discomfort to _God-get-me-out-of-here._

Dinner took the awkwardness to a new level, though—when they actually _tried_ talking. Conversation came in little frantic spurts, separated by long pauses where nothing but the clattering of forks and glasses could be heard.

"So," David ventured at last. "What do you do, Neal?"

"I'm a literary agent," Neal answered.

"Ah…" David nodded slowly, a vague smile on his face. "That's…fun."

"Very interesting," Mary Margaret agreed.

"What is it?" Jefferson frowned, forking a potato. "Is that, like, some sort of book-spy? Do you spy on writers and sell their ideas, or something? 'Cause—not gonna lie—that sounds kinda cool and kinda illegal, at the same time."

"Neal represents multiple writers," Emma said swiftly, placing a hand on Neal's arm. "He gets them book deals and stuff, gets them in touch with the right people. Stuff like that."

"Oh." Jefferson looked mildly disappointed. "That's less exciting."

Emma kicked him under the table, making him yelp and drop his fork. Mary Margaret raised her eyebrows at him.

"Jeff, what are you doing?"

"Nothing," he said darkly, glowering at Emma; she smiled back innocently.

"Jeff just graduated from Boston University last semester," she told Neal. "Got his Bachelor's in Immaturity and Complete Idiocy."

Jefferson laughed sarcastically. "Emma's an amateur comedienne. Everyone pretend to laugh at her jokes, so she still feels like a special snowflake."

"You're all my special snowflakes," Mary Margaret said fondly, leaning in her seat to press a kiss to his head; Jefferson impatiently moved his head.

"Come on, Mom. knock it off," he complained as she ruffled his hair.

" _Aww,_ " Ruby smiled mockingly. "Wittle Jeffy doesn't want his hair messed, that's _adowable."_

"And Ruby's working on her degree in Instigation and Mockery," Emma said under her breath. Neal nodded, hiding a smile as he coughed into his fist.

The conversation lagged again, the only talking coming from Robin as he tried to coax Roland into eating his mashed potatoes.

"So, Neal," Mary Margaret said. "Tell us about being a literary agent. What's it like?"

Neal blinked at her several times, his fork paused halfway to his mouth. "It's, uh….it's all right. Long hours, really busy, but…." He shrugged. "Yeah, it's all right."

"It sounds interesting," Mary Margaret said, combing through her corn and peas. "Is it?"

"Well, yeah, I mean…I get to meet a lot of aspiring writers, read their stuff before anyone else. Sometimes, I put them in touch with my boss, and they end up getting pretty far."

"Oh, how nice."

"Actually, it's really cool because I've just taken on a new client," Neal said. "Brand new author—Killian Jones. My boss thinks he's going to be the next Stephanie Meyer." He paused for a minute, thinking. "He just might be," he said quietly, a grimace crawling on his face. "He just might be.

"Huh," Ruby snorted. "That bad?"

"N-no…he's not—"

"He sucks," Emma said flatly.

"Okay, yes, _but_ thirteen-year-old girls are already squealing over _The Vampire Chronicles,"_ Neal pointed out. "They're one of our best audiences. He could get a movie deal, easy."

Emma closed her eyes. "Do we have to talk about this at dinner?" she said through clenched teeth.

"They asked," Neal muttered back.

"But this is why I told you, no phone calls at dinner. I didn't want to spend the night talking about _The Vampire Chronicles,_ " she hissed.

"Well, what do you want me to do?"

"Change the subject!"

"Everything okay, guys?"

Emma and Neal turned their heads, just now realizing everyone was staring at them quizzically. Emma broke into a nervous smile.

"Everything's _fine,_ " she said, batting a hand. "We're just…."

"Talking about how excited we are to be spending Christmas here." Neal smiled, nudging her with his elbow. "Right, Em?"

"So . Excited."


End file.
